Dream Lovers
I am in love with an imaginary person.
A Hollywood image flickering
on the straight line of my horizon,
a mirage created by my dreaming,
as all lovers are.
Then transposed to sit on top of flesh and bone,
stuffed into a skin, which doesn’t quite fit,
as all lovers are.
Some parts I hide inside.
Others are in the forefront of my imagination,
filling out the skin, adding more flesh to the bone.
I live in a soap opera stuffed full of imaginary people
with imaginary lives
interspaced with commercial breaks.
It’s more satisfactory,
easier than engaging with the dangers and tedium outside.
Even so, love can still hurt me, but not as badly.
Imaginary events are more controllable.
So it’s more satisfactory.
I can change the situations that trouble me
without stepping outside,
without exposure or failure.
The real world is hard and
it’s people even more transitory than
the mirage lovers
who flicker in and out on the screen behind my eyes.
Are they the same for you, these soap opera people?
The mirage lovers
of your reality and imagination.


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